


tempered, unbroken

by softshark



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fin-Galad, Finduilas!Gil-galad, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 06:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softshark/pseuds/softshark
Summary: Orodreth returns from the Halls, and Finduilas fears her father will be unable to accept her as Gil-galad.
Relationships: Finduilas Faelivrin & Orodreth | Artaresto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	tempered, unbroken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [esmeraldablazingsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmeraldablazingsky/gifts).

> this is a gift fic for the lovely princess-faelivrin over on tumblr!   
i know saying 'erenion gil-galad, scion of kings' is a redundancy, but listen, it sounds cooler than just saying 'gil-galad, scion of kings.'

“Will you go to him?” Elrond asked over the brim of his cup, but Finduilas did not make an immediate movement to acknowledge him.

She was staring out West, towards Tirion, where she knew her father was. 

He had made his way home from the Halls at last, the latest in a slow trickle of the House of Finwë from Mandos’ care. 

Upon his arrival in Aman, Elrond had gone to the halls with Arafinwë and Findarato to discuss the return of the House of Finwe, a shared sense that it had been long enough and, as Elrond often says ‘forever is too long.’

Finduilas knew her father would come, eventually, and yet, she still somehow felt unprepared, now that the time had come. 

Finduilas sighed and fingered her cup. “Of course I will.”

Elrond sipped his wine, thoughtfully. “I meant, will you go to him… In the relatively immediate future…?”

Finduilas sighed. “Why, Elrond? Do you want to know?”

“Because I have not seen you so pensive and inscrutable in many, many years.”

“You have not seen  _ me, _ in any form, in many, many years, period. I died, remember? It’s been 3,000 years.”

“And it has been several decades since we came together again. And I have not seen you so pensive and inscrutable in that time.”

Finduilas sighed. So he was going to be annoying, today. “You want me to go to him promptly.”

“I think  _ you _ want to go to him promptly. And I cannot imagine what the hesitation is.”

Finduilas turned to look out the window again, and blew frustrated air out of her nose. 

“Can you not?” She muttered.

Elrond cocked his head, regarding her, and Finduilas did not give him the benefit of returning his look. 

“Surely you cannot think his love is conditional.”

“It’s not that.” She sighed, folding her arms in front of her and rolling her shoulders, and feeling the sinew of her strong, muscled body settle in to her chair. It had been more than 6,000 years since she had seen her father, and in that time she’d strayed very far from the soft princess her father knew and loved. War, loss, trauma and hardshipped had changed and hardened Finduilas Faelivrin, both in body and soul, into Erenion Gil-galad, scion of kings. “I’m afraid…. That our relationship will be irrevocably changed.”

“Oh, my old friend, your relationship is already changed. And that is not a bad thing, relationships change, over the course of time and events. Even between parent and child. 6,000 years I’ve spent by my father’s side, and for 3,000 years my children remained by mine. Not once did our love or closeness diminish, though ever it changed.”

“It’s not only that, I mean….. Oh Elrond, I fear his disappointment, I fear…. I fear that he will look at me and that the person that I am will break his heart. That he will see me and judge it as a result of his own shortcomings. That he should have protected me better from this.”

It was uncomfortable for her, to be so open, so vulnerable, but Elrond had a sick way of coaxing vulnerability out of others…. And Finduilas longed for her father, and she longed for the courage to go and face him. 

“I am who I am because of my own strength. I am happy with who I am, who I became…… I’m afraid that…. No matter what I say, he will be unable to accept that, that it will break us…. As a pair and as individuals.”

Elrond considered this for a while. “I have known a few Arafinwions in my life….”

“Aye, you even sired a few.” Finduilas said, dryly.

Elrond smiled, slowly, “Yes. And I’ve known many fathers in my life as well- though I have not sired any, of those, mind you, but from what I know both of Arafinwions and fathers, you worry needlessly.” Elrond set his hand on Finduilas, and smiled reassuringly. “Go to him, my friend, and let your heart be at ease.”

“Grandfather.” Finduilas bowed low to the King of the Noldor, and he bowed back.

“Finduilas.” He smiled, “I think I know why you’re here….”

“Yes.” She said wistfully. She had come in through the back gate of Tirion’s palace, the one used for family. “How is he?”

“Doing well.” Arafinwë, swept his cloak aside and led her in. “Disappointed, I think, that his father has not returned yet, but Angaráto will return in time, I’m sure. He has asked after you.”

Finduilas felt stricken, for it had been a week since her father returned, and she had made not even an attempt at contacting him…. She should have done better.

Her great-grandfather seemed to glean this, and he smiled at her reassuringly. “Do not let your heart grow heavy. You were perfectly within your own rights to not come.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Healing is a complex process, my child. He holds you not to blame, and neither should yourself.”

“I worry that he holds  _ himself _ to blame, and that I have made it worse.”

“If he holds himself to blame, then that is something he must sort out on his own. And not necessarily without your help, but it is not your responsibility to heal him.”

Finduilas made no comment as Arafinwe guided her through a side hall, into a small garden, and she knew her father was inside, she could feel him, and presence of his fëa so near to her own was staggering. 

Arafinwë ran his hand down her arm, reassuringly, giving it a squeeze before walking away. 

Finduilas walked slowly towards the figure on the bench, her father. And stopped to stand just behind him. 

“Atto….” She murmured, and to her relief, he did not turn around. 

“Faelivrin.” He reached his hand up over his shoulder, and there was a smile in his voice. Finduilas hesitated for a moment, before reaching out and taking his hand. She knew he would be able to feel the difference between the hand that he knew, and her hand now. He had known long, delicate fingers and soft skin. Now, they were muscled, course, powerful. “You needn’t hesitate to see me…. They’ve told me that you are different to the daughter I knew…. But in your own time.” He sighed, contentedly, “Even to just feel you near, again, after all this time…. Is a joy beyond words.”

Finduilas sighed, fighting back tears, and walked out from behind the bench, to kneel in front of her father. She breathed another shaky sigh, and he inhaled, looking at her. “Oh…..”

Finduilas knew what he must be seeing, his father had seen warrior elleths before, muscled and athletic, but Finduilas was not like them. Not lithe lines that remained easily identifiable as female, merely hardened hardened, no. Finduilas was bulking muscle, hard, masculine lines only identifiable as feminine on close look. She was so far from Faelivrin now, so far from the beloved daughter who braided her father’s hair, who spoke softly and smiled sweetly and looked down. 

“You.....” Orodreth bit his lips, fighting back tears and rubbing his hands gently over hers. “Are you still my daughter?”

Finduilas’ heart broke, trepidation filling in the cracks. “What do you mean by that, atto?”

“I mean, are you my son, now, rather? Does that please you more?” He reached out and squeezed her hand, “The fëa…. Our fëar change our hröar in accordance to how we…. We understand ourselves. Of course you are always my child, but I mean-“

“No,” Finduilas interrupted, thickly, “I mean, yes......” She sighed and scrubbed her face. Oh, how could she explain this to him? She loathed to explain the dichotomy of the two genders within her to others. Because she could not explain it on the basis of two genders, she existed beyond the concept. “Masculine and feminine… are both a part of me now. I am both, and neither, but I am still your little girl...... That role still means.... So much to me.” Finduilas laughed, “I know I do not look the part so much anymore..... But if you can still see me as your little princess, your daughter..... That would mean everything to me.”

Orodreth made a pained sound in the back of his throat, and pulled Finduilas in tight. Though her father was a slight elf, particularly against Finduilas’ strong body, the emotion in the embrace was mighty, and it knocked the breath from Finduilas’ lungs.

“Oh, my princess, how I failed you.”

“Oh, my Atto, how you carry the world on your shoulders,” Finduilas took a place on the bench next to him, and pulled him into her arms, squeezing hard. He gasped in surprise, and Finduilas fluttered her eyes closed, allowing herself to walk through the past. Always, since she was born, her father had striven to… to… Finduilas didn’t really know what. As long as she’d known him, her whole life, her father seemed to bear this burden of guilt on him, like he was undeserving of something and he had to earn that something. Finduilas had adored her uncle Finrod in her youth, but years and hardship had brought understanding- that kingship was not a title, that it was not the majesty of one’s mantle or cloth, or jewels. That it was not renown or wisdom- it was duty, it was administration, it was the burden of a whole people on your shoulders and not cracking under it. Her uncle had been a shining star for their people to look up to, but her father had been the ground they stood upon.

“You have failed no one but yourself, and you have always been far too cruel to yourself.” She pulled back to look at him, and his eyes were shining with tears.

“Look at me. I know what you see, Atto. You see a daughter who has been hardened by life, a daughter you failed to protect from hardships; but what I am is a daughter who was  _ strong _ enough not to have been broken by life, Ereinion they call me, most renowned of all Elven kings and I am that way because of you.” Finduilas shook her head, “Do not look at me and despair for what I had to become, look at me and be  _ proud  _ that your daughter, the child that you made, was  _ strong _ .”

“Ereinion….” Orodreth murmured. “Descendant of Finwë, and Arafinwë.”

“And Orodreth.” Finduilas said fiercely, “More than any other, Orodreth. King of Nargothrond. Erenion Gil-galad, Orodrethion; I was the king I was because of you.” Finduilas felt something catch in her throat, and she realized she had dispelled her own insecurity from her heart, and the idea that she might have been a disappointment to her father seemed ridiculous, now- with all she’d accomplished in her life, and as kind and loving as her father was, how could he ever be anything other than-

“Oh my Faelivrin,” He choked out, pulling her into his arms, “I am so proud of you.”

-

From afar, Arafinwë watched through the boughs of his garden as his grandson and great-grandchild reconciled.

“Do you remember when I got back from the Halls?” His eldest son asked, from his side, with a smile in his voice. 

Arafinwë smiled, and tiled his head to rest against Findarato’s. “I recall it was an episode filled with tears and our mutual fears of having failed each other.”

“Yes, despite all we’d both done and accomplished in our time apart…..” Findaráto entwined his fingers through his father’s, who brought their joined hands up to his lips to kiss them. 

“You can’t help it, as a father…. All you want in the world is to keep your child safe from any unhappiness in the world….”

“Well then.” Findaráto smiled, taking on an odd tone, “Let us hope that in the future, our children can make us proud, while we still keep them safe.”

Arafinwë gave him wary smile, “What do you know that I don’t? You and your Sight.”

Findaráto laughed, “Oh the Sight has not brought me tidings at all, but other sources bring me news…”

Arafinwë raised his brows, and Findaráto smiled.

“Gwindor has returned from the Halls.”

  
  



End file.
